Unlike when we met at the Guild, he was dressed in a suit that looked expensive at a single glance.
Furthermore, he had discarded the round glasses I had seen him wearing earlier.
Perhaps the glasses had been a deliberate choice to soften his features; without them, his expression held a sharp, refined edge that felt at odds with his initial, gentle appearance.
“I hope your journey here was not too arduous.”
“Thanks to you, it was fine.”
It had been a struggle to persuade my knights, insisting I wanted to go out quietly without drawing attention. Once I arrived at the theater, however, slipping through the back entrance to avoid notice and being guided by the manager had been quite seamless.
I did intend to cause a scandal someday, but it was too early for that now. For the moment, I had no choice but to endure a certain amount of inconvenience.
Mihail held out his hand to Blair. Having lived as an Imperial Princess, Blair accepted the escort with grace and took her seat.
Mihail poured her a glass of wine with the ease of someone highly accustomed to the nuances of hospitality.
“Thank you.”
Blair received the glass and asked immediately, “Then, is the purchase of the mansion in the Kingdom finished?”
Mihail, who had been about to introduce the wine, let out a soft laugh at her directness.
“My, you don’t even give me a moment to catch my breath. I’m a bit saddened.”
Blair blinked, failing to grasp the sentiment. Wasn’t the purpose of this meeting, from the start, purely professional? Was there anything else to discuss?
Mihail, still smiling, reached into his inner pocket and placed a small coin on the table.
“To get straight to the point: the purchase was successful. Take this to Argenta and present it at the location inscribed on the coin; they will hand over the deed to the mansion.”
Blair picked up the coin and examined it.
There was writing in the Clarnia tongue on the front. Having studied foreign languages as an Imperial Princess, she had no trouble reading the words: *The Last Cup Of Clarnia.* It seemed to be a poetic metaphor.
Mihail then handed over a wooden tablet. “And this is the identification you requested.”
“You’ve been a great help. I will send your payment to the Guild tomorrow through my maid.”
“I am glad I could be of assistance.”
Mihail replied with a faint smile. Watching him, I felt I could almost see the gentle impression he usually projected with his glasses on.
Just as Blair was about to ask him about those glasses, the black curtain on the theater stage rose.
“It seems the play is about to begin.”
After a brief hush, the actors appeared on stage. A narrator stepped to the side, and the performance commenced.
*“A long, long time ago, there were sacred animals that protected this world. People called them Divine Beasts. Coming from another world, they possessed power far superior to that of humans or demons. However, they did not covet greater power, nor did they rule over the weak; they strove for the balance and peace of this world.”*
The story was one Blair had encountered many times in books and plays since childhood—a classic tale known to anyone raised in the Western Continent.
After marrying, she had encountered it once more while studying the history of the Del Marc Duchy. Helios, the protagonist, was the Divine Beast who had lent his power to the first Duke Del Marc.
Seeing the legend unfold on stage stirred fresh, complex emotions within her.
Mihail, noticing her intense focus, leaned in. “It is the story of the last Divine Beast, Helios, and his lover, the human knight Arwen. It’s quite an interesting play.”
The opening scenes depicted Helios’s initial hostility toward humanity, followed by his gradual softening as he grew closer to Arwen. As the two young protagonists built their friendship and prepared for adventure, the orchestra swelled with grand, sweeping music.
Then, faint, rhythmic noises began to bleed into the music. It sounded, distinctly, like a woman’s weeping.
Blair turned her head, puzzled. The source was the private lounge next door.
She stared at the wall, blinking in surprise, before the realization struck.
*This sound, could it be…*
Behind her, Mihail’s voice dropped to a low murmur.
“This theater is that kind of place.”
He drank his wine nonchalantly, as if he were well-versed in such environments.
“A place where secret lovers meet and share their affections; it is quite suitable for the quiet discretion you require, My Lady. That is why the play features so many boisterous battle scenes.”
The stage had to be noisy, loud enough to drown out the private echoes drifting from the lounges.
Blair’s face flushed a deep, embarrassed crimson. She turned away, unable to meet his eyes, feeling as though the scandalous nature of the surroundings were somehow staining her own composure.
*My goodness, how could they do such an obscene thing…*
It was a contradiction: to be mortified by such a trivial encounter, yet to simultaneously plot a scandal involving multiple people as grounds for a divorce. To Mihail, the discrepancy felt strangely endearing.
As if to tease her, the sounds from the next room intensified. Blair could barely focus on the play, her eyes darting nervously around the room.
Mihail chuckled, then steered the conversation elsewhere. “After your divorce, do you have any other plans?”
“First, I think I will try doing business. I am still pondering the specifics.”
Mihail, who had intended only to distract her, was secretly surprised by her answer. It was novel to think of a woman who had lived a life of absolute luxury wanting to forge her own path in commerce.
“Have you secured the capital?”
“I intend to soon. And I will need your help to secure it.”
The jewelry and valuables Blair had held as an Imperial Princess were largely exhausted by her commissions to Mihail. Her new plan relied on the memories of the future she possessed.
However, she had no intention of stealing someone else’s success. Though she had returned to the past, it didn’t feel right to use her foresight solely for cold, personal gain.
Instead, she was aiming for something else.
*If my memory serves, before long, my brother’s chief steward will buy several paintings at an auction.*
During a family dinner, Ivan had cursed, complaining that his steward had wasted money on “cheap” paintings. Two years later, the artist would catch the eye of the Marquess Piatze family, renowned for their patronage, and his work would skyrocket in value.
Only then would Ivan display the paintings he had abandoned in a warehouse, pretending he had possessed a keen artistic eye all along.
Blair planned to take a small portion of what would have eventually become Ivan’s profit. Given how much he had taken from her over a lifetime, surely this was a fair retrieval?
She justified it as a necessary measure.
*It takes two years for the value to rise, but I was planning to rest until I gave birth to Aziel anyway.*
Mihail skillfully led the conversation, his stories of the Guild and travel so captivating that Blair eventually forgot the sounds from the next room. She listened with eyes bright and attentive, fully immersed in his words until the play reached its conclusion.
“I shall escort you.”
Mihail held out his hand. Blair took it and stood up. But before they had taken more than a few steps, he paused in front of the door.
“It is a pity, but my escort ends here. Because it is not yet time.”
Blair looked at him, curious. “Are you a noble?”
Even in the future she remembered, Mihail’s identity remained a mystery. She had assumed he was a commoner, yet he possessed the refined etiquette of a high-ranking gentleman.
At her sudden question, Mihail merely smiled.
“If I appear as such, that is fortunate.”
He replied with a soft, practiced evasion. Sensing he would say no more, Blair did not press.
Mihail lightly kissed the back of her hand and released it.
“Then, I shall see you again soon, My Lady.”
* * *
“Welcome back, Her Grace.”
Upon arriving at the ducal residence, Mason and the servants lined up to greet her. Blair stepped into the mansion and asked, “Where is the Duke?”
“His afternoon schedule ended early, so he returned a little while ago.”
At the news that Headrin was in the house, Blair’s heart plummeted.
Nothing had happened with Mihail, and her relationship with Headrin was merely a contractual charade for the public eye, yet she felt a sudden, sharp anxiety. It was the feeling of someone who had truly committed an indiscretion and was now returning to the scene of the crime.
Even though all of this was part of the plan to secure the safe divorce he wanted, she felt trapped.
As she had done recently, Blair climbed the stairs, hoping to avoid a confrontation.
But fate was not on her side.
Beside her bedroom door, Headrin was waiting.
Her husband, who hadn’t shown his face for the past fortnight, stood there with eyes as cold as glacial ice.